Adventures in the Far Future & Tales of Outer Space — page 190: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“Roger.” “O.K., now here’s what you're to do. We're going to vector you in on Bertha. Close to visual range. We get a good sharp return on this thing, but it may be physically quite small, and possibly it’s a natural satellite no one ever happened to notice. If it is, we need it. Make fast to It, go aboard and establish possession... put down some sort of marker and get pictures. Get as much data as you can as to size, composition, et cetera, and report ... let’s see, make that report: ‘Bertha condition Able.’ Do you have that? ‘Bertha condition Able.’ Now acknowledge.” Goodrich printed carefully on his log: nat sat—Able. “Rubberneck, Roger,” he said. “Good. Now there’s a chance it may not be natural, it may be an artificial satellite. Our intelligence is good, but it isn’t perfect, and it’s just possible somebody has beat us to die punch. If so, we want to know who. Use discretion here, try to avoid observation, and above all don’t provoke an incident; but make positive identification if at all possible, and get all you can in the way of pictures, stuff like that. If you’re fired on, report: ‘Baker.’ Take evasive action, draw as much fire as possible without endangering your mission, and try to keep contact until further advised. Good luck, boy.” “Roger,” Goodrich said. McKay and Brown had been listening wide-eyed. “Well,” McKay said. “You think there’s really something there, or have they just got us chasing flying saucers?” “| don’t know, but | don’t think | like it,” Brown said. “You Know what that means when they say: ‘Good luck, boy.’ That means you better check and see if your beneficiary Is Current.” Goodrich flipped an impatient hand at them. “Break it off,” he said. “You can figure it all out later. Now give mea hand to copy this stuff, we’ll be out of range in a minute.” CORniclooo SS CO